


Only His Hips

by FeralSunrise (JusticeTokidoki)



Category: Kingdom Hearts (Video Games)
Genre: Biting, Bottom Roxas (Kingdom Hearts), Emotional Sex, Enthusiastic Consent, Established Relationship, Frottage, Grinding, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-Coital Cuddling, Self-Indulgent, Sweet/Hot, Top Sora (Kingdom Hearts)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:35:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27532351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JusticeTokidoki/pseuds/FeralSunrise
Summary: When Sora said he would only need his hips to work someone up, Roxas called his bluff.It wasn’t until several hours later that he realized he’d made a grave mistake.
Relationships: Roxas/Sora (Kingdom Hearts)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 55





	Only His Hips

**Author's Note:**

> This is super, super self-indulgent.
> 
> I just love them so much and I also lost sleep.

“No.”

“No?” Sora’s eyebrows were raised high enough his spiky, bushy brown locks fanned them away from view. Sora’s head was an untamed burst of hair and gel. He had been meaning to get a haircut. 

But Roxas liked playing with it a little too much. His fingers nimbly danced in the strands as he pulled back Sora’s head in his lap, humming. “No. Not buying it.”

Sora’s pout appeared simultaneously with the red blood spreading underneath his cheeks. He leaned back more into Roxas’ hands. “You don’t believe me?”

“Sora, I know you.” Roxas had to smile at the cute behavior in front of him. Sora made him feel warm. It was as if his fingers were the source of any and all sensation Sora would ever need. He massaged Sora’s scalp which earned him a hearty gasp as a treat. “Whenever we move like that you come so fast. It takes more for me, that’s why I’m always on top when we start there.”

Thinking about it was dangerous. As he had admitted, grinding alone wasn’t enough to break Roxas past the edge he needed to reach that blissful, mind numbing pleasure that Sora seemed to tap into with the flip of a switch. He was slow, but that didn’t mean he didn’t enjoy every moment of contact Sora gave him. 

And having that control over Sora, watching and  _ feeling  _ him squirm was something Roxas could never get enough of. He kept himself still, focusing on the scent of Sora’s shampoo, a mix of fall leaves and pumpkin spices. He swallowed before breathing out evenly. “Hearing you say that though… you have my attention.”

“I’ve been practicing for weeks.” Sora wet his lips, gently pulling away from Roxas’ lap. He got up from the floor, sitting next to Roxas on the couch. “Give me tomorrow.”

“Huh, you’re serious?” Roxas asked. He tilted his head, an invitation, and Sora took it, leaning against his shoulder. He took Sora’s hand, squeezing it tightly. “Well, it’s Saturday. That shouldn’t be a problem.”

Who was he to deny anything from Sora? He doubted Sora would last long enough to do what he claimed, but he knew it would feel amazing. Down every new toy or position Sora guided them through, there was always the emphasis of Roxas’ pleasure being paramount. 

He was honestly being spoiled. After what felt like a lifetime of having his existence denied, Sora reaffirmed him piece by broken piece. Whether the pieces crumbled from a memory or Sora’s very existence. Pleasure was just as intimidating, if not more overwhelming, to Roxas’ sense of self but Sora held him through it all. 

Roxas brought up the hand of his lover, caressing the bony white knuckles with a kiss, then another. He then started adding his tongue and he felt his companion twitch in time to his heartbeat. “I trust you,” he spoke into Sora’s hand, then turned his head. 

This kiss, their press of lips, was quick and chaste. Sora’s eyes were almost black. He smiled boldly. “I mean it, Rox. The whole day.” 

Roxas laughed. “How long are you keeping me in bed? Do I at least get 3 meals?”

Sora made a show of looking up in thought. His voice was lower when he spoke. “Maybe. If you come first.”

“Hmm, this a challenge?” Roxas’ mouth transformed into a smirk. He was debating on how easy to go on Sora, but after hearing  _ that  _ he decided he was going to be the biggest brat possible. “Well I’m not giving it to you.”

“Oh. That’s fine.” Sora looked, if possible, even more cocky despite the bashful touch of pink dusting his whole face now. “I like it when you make me work for it.”

There was always a heightened layer of sincerity whenever they were having these conversations. It always took Roxas back. He’d never met anyone as open as Sora, for better or worse. Or determined for that matter. 

_ Want  _ crowded the coherent thoughts away from his mind and something from his face must have given that away because Sora simply chuckled and then slipped away from his reach. “Tomorrow,” he reiterated, his voice carrying a lingering sense of the same need that currently had Roxas shackled to the couch. “And not a moment sooner.”

Roxas smirked. Sora loved to withhold things after announcing his gifts. As if in compromise to his horrible knack for keeping secrets. 

Already, Sora had begun teasing him with this glance, a grin that told Roxas he was going to draw this out. Not enough for Roxas to beg, no, but enough to give Sora exactly what he wanted. 

Well, Roxas had a plan for that too. “Tomorrow then.”

They went into a familiar rhythm as they sped into dinner, shoulders brushing at inopportune times, a hand resting a little too long at the small of someone’s back as they cleaned the dishes together. All of this too was precious to Roxas, the build up, the hint of what was to come. 

Knowing they both had the exact same thoughts running through their heads. 

His eyes widened as Sora’s mouth found the sweet spot near the jugular, sealing his presence with expert pressure, nipping with teeth. Roxas let out a grunt, gripping the plate in his hands so tightly he was afraid he would break it. 

Sora didn’t let up, moving a mere two inches down and sucking on a fresh patch of skin. Roxas hissed, rolling his hips back once, feeling Sora’s hips slam back in time. It was hard enough that he was now pinned to the counter. 

So much for patience, this was Sora after all. “Sora… hey… you’re making things harder for yourself.” He bit back another moan. He wanted to help Sora succeed somewhat, before his own selfish desire for contact could leave them panting on the tiled floor. 

Sora whined into his skin, voice broken. “I told you. Tomorrow you’re coming from just my hips alone.” Roxas shivered as Sora rubbed lightly into him, probably to emphasize that. “I can’t use my mouth, my tongue, or any other tricks. So I’m getting that out of my system now.”

“Fuck.” Roxas gripped the counter tightly. He was very close to breaking something. Very, very close to peeling off part of the sink and turning to  _ really  _ make Sora lose any control contained in that promise. “I’ll take you against the table, Sora, I fucking swear I’ll-“

Sora bit. He really sank his teeth in. Roxas froze. If he hadn’t experienced the sting of Sora’s vampiric bite during their travels, he would have been mistaken. But they weren’t in that town of endless night, chanting of a holiday where the king of pumpkins and terror could laugh gleefully at their frightened squeals. 

They were in Twilight Town, in Roxas’ humble apartment. He wasn’t in his overly hot, stuffy organization coat, black in darkness, black everywhere. He was only wearing a white V-neck, his short grey shorts felt as flimsy as boxers with how much of  _ Sora  _ he could feel pressing into his ass. 

And Sora was wearing red. Red tank top, red boxers, red cheeks, and now red running down from the bite and melding into Roxas’ shirt. Marking him twice. Sora huffed out a controlled exhale, frustration and lust laced his every word. “You’ll what?”

It felt more like a statement than a question, almost a demand. Roxas couldn’t work up the saliva to even swallow. His mouth was dry and he was sure there was no blue left in his eyes. He shivered once. “I said… I said…”

“Against the table? Rough? Hard enough to break it?” Sora whispered and Roxas found himself buckling forward. Sora held him up by the waist against the counter, hips still pressed tightly into Roxas. “Well? That what you want?”

He could barely render his own name. He could barely breathe. He wanted to kill Sora, he  _ did  _ want to break the table, he wanted them to smash together until there was nothing left. 

But he also needed to stand. Needed to breathe. Sora’s grip was strong, just one at his waist. The other was making its way into his scalp and Roxas sighed. 

“Roxas… the  _ only  _ reason I’m not fucking you into the sink right now is because I can’t wait to see you break down tomorrow. If you’re sore or if I’m sore then it doesn’t work, does it? I’m being very, very patient right now.” 

Roxas felt the fingers in his hair tense up and then he was pulled upright. He hadn’t even realized he was leaning forward. His knuckles were white from gripping the sink. He flinched and released it, idly taking in the dents in the metal. 

“Good. Good…” Sora kissed the back of Roxas’ head. “Sorry for biting you. You… surprised me.”

Though Sora’s tone was light Roxas simply nodded, his brain not entirely out of the subspace funk Sora had plunged him into. Sora must have also known because all of his touches had softened. They stood in the kitchen for a long time, Roxas couldn’t tell how long but when he glanced at the clock it was a quarter to ten. 

He wasn’t sure if he still wanted to carry out his plan. Sora was… he was a fire eating at him, and clearly prepared. 

Still, Roxas had his ways. 

He was also impatient. 

{}

He couldn’t keep himself from rustling. They were under the covers together, they were so, so close, but Roxas waited for that number change before making his move. 

12:01 a.m.

He turned, whispering, “Still awake?”

He knew Sora was, just from the body heat he was giving off, the measured breaths. Sora grunted, turned and blinked at the ceiling. Nose wrinkling, Sora’s voice was silky smooth as he let out a, “awake now.”

_ As you have been for all these hours we lay here.  _ “Sora?”

“Hmm?”

“It’s tomorrow.” Roxas couldn’t help the giddy grin that overtook his face. He grasped Sora’s hand, kissing at his fingers again.

Sora’s mouth stretched from a grim line to a very small approximation of a smile. His eyes darted to the side, and Roxas stared back into a hint of blue and a whole lot of black. Way more than earlier. “So it is.”

Roxas chuckled. “You never mentioned a time.”

“I didn’t.” Sora shifted onto his side, watching as Roxas swallowed down two of his fingers. “You’re so…”

Roxas moaned a little, making sure he coated the fingers in his mouth with plenty of saliva. He pulled away, watching the trail connecting them pop as he let out a soft sound of content. “Irresistible?”

“Eager.” Sora audibly swallowed. “Needy.”

“I’m not good at waiting.”

Sora giggled. “No… you’re not.” Sora sat up. “Me neither.”

“So?” There was excitement, the air was charged. 

Sora paused, characteristically loving the dramatics of holding that question in the silent space between them being broken into by Roxas’ shaky breaths. “Honestly, I wanted to protect your pride a little, give you more of an excuse not to cave in so early. After all, if I’m sleepy right now what does it say about you losing it, all while I’m not at 100%?”

“You’re so cocky all of a sudden.” Roxas stretched wantonly in front of Sora, knowing the movement would push up his shirt, show skin. “I told you already. I’m not giving it to you.” 

Sora’s eyes danced along his little show. He reached over, pinning Roxas’ wrists, then made himself home on Roxas’ lap. There was still some space in between his thighs and Roxas’ hips, but that probably wouldn’t last long. 

The pressure between them was familiar, electricity rolling as Sora tested a position, expression stern in concentration. He settled in then, finding something he liked and squeezing his thighs in. 

Their boxers suddenly felt light, a small film between their skin. Roxas could feel how hard Sora was already. It was the same as it usually was so Roxas relaxed, letting his eyelids flutter before closing them, giving Sora a little more help. 

He doubted the friction would be enough, but he was aching for the motions. His toes curled and flexed repeatedly. His heartbeat thrummed loudly in his chest.

Sora sighed out a word.  _ Beautiful _ . Then he shifted his hips just so. An inch forward, an inch back. He hummed a low song of pleasure from his throat as he rocked into his half. 

Roxas started trembling. It wasn’t enough, but this was nice. It felt good. He let the heat in his chest spread, he felt it collect lower still, he groaned as Sora started rutting roughly, but still in small, shallow shifts. It was different from what Sora normally did, fully aligning their cocks and gliding against Roxas’ full length. 

Sora definitely had practiced. This motion in reverse had been enough for Roxas to make the other man cry, and this only led to Roxas drawing it out. He would slow down to a tantalizing halt, letting Sora whine and beg for a few minutes before starting again and again. 

Sora was slowing down now and Roxas bit down against his bottom lip. The ache was building. He wanted more. Clearly Sora was using some of what Roxas had showed in the past. 

It made Roxas happy, feel full despite not even being completely pressed against Sora. He let out a disgruntled breath and Sora stopped. He stopped and Roxas stayed very silent. 

“You’re beautiful, Roxas.”

Roxas shook. He was shaking so much the tremors were traveling up Sora’s arms, but Sora remained solid. All smiles and wild eyes and Roxas wanted him to move dammit!

“I...I’m not asking,” Roxas said, sounding hoarse even to his own ears. 

Sora looked away, rubbing his nose in a nonchalant display, Roxas’ wrist slipping in his relaxed grip. “That’s okay. I’ll wait.”

Roxas snickered. Sure, he was painfully hard right now, but given their short temperaments he had a feeling Sora would break first. He could last long enough. 

Sora then frowned and shifted forward, his thighs squeezing a little tighter. In his adjustments he brought his crotch down hard and Roxas felt his soul rise up past his gaping mouth. Sora’s voice intermingled with his shock, “Sorry, this just feels… a little better I think? No, wait.”

Sora circled his hips, passing briefly against the head of Roxas’ clothed dick before settling back. “I think… better. Hmm, this is hard for me.”

Oh, right.  _ Hard _ . Roxas was going to lose his mind! Sora wasn’t even rubbing against him, not really. The movements were deliberately light, the barest hint of pressure, but because of that Sora could focus on the sensitive areas. 

And Roxas could feel how stiff Sora was, he could practically see the wet spot growing right in the middle of the red boxers that now matched Roxas’ face. Sora had to be dying too. 

But he continued his light there but not really there presses, his thighs clenching and unclenching around Roxas at random, his hands fumbling against Roxas’ chest in a playful way. It was like he needed to hold onto something as he got his footing, lips pursed before parting, grimacing, then hiding behind teeth in a crooked pout as he changed his mind. 

Torture was too kind a word to describe what was happening. Desperation clawed into Roxas’ chest and he felt a part of himself rise past his inhibitions. His hands were free and they shot forward, he dug his nails in a vice grip at Sora’s hips, then pushed  _ down _ . 

Sora froze, suddenly paying very close attention to Roxas’ face. Where he should have been looking. Where Roxas wanted his gaze to stay for the rest of the night. 

Possessiveness made Roxas’ tongue bitter, obsession drilled all his strength into his fingers. He felt something wet meet them, blending into the red on Sora’s hips. So much red, it contrasted perfectly with the blue hooking him in. 

_ Yes, keep looking _ . 

Roxas didn’t recognize his own voice. The overwhelming need wasn’t reflected in it. It was cold and raw. “Move.”

Sora stared for a while. If he was in pain he didn’t show it, he wasn’t doing anything about the fingers digging holes in his hips. He didn’t have to, his smile was so big it almost split his face. 

“You want me to move?” Sora asked.

Roxas jerked his head forward once. 

Sora laughed and it was the most frustrating and heavenly thing in the world. It didn’t help that the action sent him forward, driving a hiss out of Roxas. His chuckles drifted away and he drawled out his response, tone soaked in honey and contentment. “I mean, I was moving, Roxas.”

Roxas blinked once then dug in his nails more. Sora let out a cross between a groan and a cough, and then Roxas used that as momentum to push Sora’s hips up just the barest of an inch. 

He’d just manually do it, bring them together. Desire and little else was colliding all around his mindscape, eyes zeroed in on Sora’s crotch. He just needed to-

Sora’s hands found his wrists. Again they slammed down near Roxas’ face. His head spun again as Sora rested his chest against his, just the force of their hips connecting  _ fully  _ after minutes of close, close, but missing touches left Roxas wheezing out a sob. 

Sora’s breath caressed their lips as he spoke. “You move.”

It barely registered in Roxas’ head. All he could focus on was that Sora’s hips were slightly raised and there was only one way he could close that distance. 

Roxas dug his heels into the sheets and bucked up. He smeared the precum in his boxers in a line parallel to Sora’s cock as they met and the friction stole the rest of him away. It was  _ so  _ good. He didn’t think he could love it this much, that having to work and flail his body like this would be something he’d ever feel comfortable doing. 

But there wasn’t anyone here. It was just the creaking bed as he erratically drove his hips up and Sora staring down, down, burrowing his gaze deep and almost kissing him, whispering encouragement and telling him just how amazing he was. How hardworking, how it felt against his cock, how he was proud of Roxas, how much he wanted to pound them both deep into the bed. 

How much trust was there and then Sora started whining and Roxas couldn’t take it. He physically could not. He was shaking and his knees fell and he fell but Sora’s hand cupped his waist. 

“Roxas? Can you move?” Sora gently brought his hips down, keeping them connected. “Can you still hold yourself up like this?”

He didn’t think he could. He tried to brace his legs but they twitched inward and he panted. Sweat freely rolled down his face, in his hair. He blinked and whispered a no. 

“Okay, it’s okay.” Sora gently set Roxas down. “I’ll do the work now.” 

Roxas gave another nod. He couldn’t speak. His legs felt numb alongside his arms. He was floating, connected only by Sora’s thighs holding him together. 

He let himself go, he sank into the sheets just as the bed started to rock. His gasps would briefly play in the midst of the sounds between the creaking, his body jostling, the warmth continuing to spread as Sora rubbed fully against his cock. 

Sora alternated between slowly dragging his hips and practically thrusting them down and Roxas wondered if there would be rashes, bruises there, and he wasn’t surprised at how the thoughts turned him on more. 

Sora’s hips were churning him into dough. One glance up and he could make out the rhythmic clench in Sora’s abdomen, how his head flung back. The motion reminded him a little of belly dancing, mesmerizing him. 

Then Sora raised his hips. He raised them then slammed them down and Roxas’ cock throbbed. It twitched and warm turned into a hot, searing rod and Roxas opened his mouth. The first two syllables of Sora’s name leapt out of his throat as his orgasm gushed forth. 

Sora worked him through it, grinding deliberately as if he were the one pushing out Roxas’ cum, rolling it out and Roxas whined and begged. He clung to Sora’s shoulders, and the shudder he was given back, the  _ fuck _ whispered in his ear brought tears. 

It felt like their hips were blended together, they were just a pile of limbs transferring the high back and forth until the flames lowered, their breaths pulling them back to the bed in each other’s arms. 

Reality. Sticky, exhausted reality. 

Roxas still clung to Sora, hugging him, mind halfway in the world and half slurred by sleep. Sora was no better judging by the yawn he blasted against Roxas’ throat. 

Roxas grunted, nudging him. “We should clean.”

“Later. Sleeping.”

“Sora…”

“You came. I win, now sleep time.”

“Sora, you’re going to whine at me later.”

“Mn’Love you. N’uv sleep. Mn’orrow.”

Roxas laughed. He laughed and closed his eyes. “Love you too.”

He wouldn’t take any blame in the morning. He very much would make breakfast and plan something else to give to his love. 

Sora spoiled him too much. It was time he gave a little back. 


End file.
